February
by Nuwanda
Summary: Sometimes no matter how much two people love each other, they still can't save their relationship. Harry/Draco AU. Heavy angst with a happy ending, I promise!
1. Chapter 1

"What the fuck d'you think you're doing?!"

Harry stared at the frayed bottom of Draco's coat, refusing to look into those angry gray eyes, as cold with fury as the sky was with winter. He wondered when Draco's coat had gotten so old and why he hadn't noticed before. The realization made him even colder and deepened the ache inside. He wrapped his arms tighter about him, frostbitten knuckles turning white with cold and with the effort of clinging to the rough wool of his own jacket, of clinging to the last shred of his sanity.

"I'm sick of it, Harry, whatever it is. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, and I don't think you've caught on yet, but I can't play along! I don't know the rules! And to be honest, I'm tired of trying to figure them out."

Harry risked another glimpse of that look on Draco's face and he realized with a harsh pang what it was. It was pain. Pain, so deep and real and cutting that Harry felt as though he couldn't breathe, yet he couldn't make himself apologize, couldn't face Draco again and see that hurt on his face.

Two boys stood silently on the edge of a frozen lake, neither knowing what to say, and in the icy hush, it began to snow.

Harry stared outside at the icy ground. The snow was still falling, though much lighter now...situations indoors hadn't improved, either. With an unusual and disturbing silence overtaking the house, there was nothing to do but watch the snow fall. A commotion behind him barely stirred him, though his eyes fixed on the reflection in the glass, unfazed green eyes quietly watching the lithe blonde behind him hurriedly putting on a jacket and snowboots. Shifting his weight back on his heels, he turned to face Draco. "What're you doing," he asked quietly.

Still semi bent over, Draco glanced Harry's way, tossing long blonde hair out of his eyes so he could see the boy at the window. "I should think that would be obvious. It's snowing, isn't it? I'm putting on boots, aren't I?"

Harry stared at Draco, who turned back to the task at hand, tying his boots. "Smartass," Harry muttered. Draco stopped what he was doing, frozen in that same bent over position. Straightening up, he cast an icy glare at Harry.

"I'm going out to shovel, Harry. There. Like things better when they're spelled out for you, Boy Wonder?" Tossing the end of his rainbow striped scarf (a gift Harry had given him as a joke at least three winters ago) over one shoulder, he left the house, slamming the door behind him and sending snow cascading off the roof and onto his head. Harry was somewhat disappointed that even the sight of prim and proper Draco covered in snow wasn't enough to make him laugh anymore. Nothing made him laugh these days.

He stared out the window, watching Draco brush snow off his shoulders with annoyance, and felt that he should go help. Not that he really wanted to. But it was the nice thing to do, and he did want to be on Draco's good side. Not that he was on Draco's bad side. Not that he could even really tell. Harry sighed. It was getting absolutely impossible to tell anymore. But he didn't think he was actually on Draco's bad side. Draco didn't really have sides; not when it came to Harry. He had always loved the silly brunette indiscriminately, never getting upset with him. Actually (and Harry sat back on his heels again as he pondered the realization which had just hit), Draco never really did get mad at him. In fact, Draco (with his bad temper and short fuse) got mad at everyone _but_ Harry. With that thought, a pang hit Harry's heart so bad that he felt he would be ill. He honestly didn't know how everything had gotten so bad lately, with the two of them fighting all the time. And fighting over what? Nothing. Nothing of any importance, anyway. Bills. What music to play in the car. Whose job it had been to mark off which fucking flowers were planted in which fucking spot. Like the flowers mattered. Well, obviously they mattered; if they hadn't mattered, he and Draco wouldn't have planted them. But in the long run, what did he care more about, those damn flowers or Draco? At that, Harry slid off the couch, tripping over his own feet and nearly falling. He hastily pulled on boots, nearly tripping again, and barely took the time to pull on a ski cap and toss a scarf about his shoulders before, jacketless, he ran out the front door.

Halfway down the driveway, Draco paused in his shoveling at the sound of the door slamming. Brushing the long golden hair out of his eyes, he straightened up, watching Harry approach through a vast silent cloud of falling snow.

Harry stopped about three feet away, hands shoved in the pockets to ward off the cold and to keep from fidgeting. Draco stared at him, shovel resting on the ground, waiting.

"...I..." Harry stopped. First of all, he still didn't really know what to say, and then his voice sounded so loud in silent air which played nothing louder than the faint rustling of falling snow. He took a deep breath, letting the icy air freeze his throat, wishing it could get him out of what he was about to say. Though he meant it, he did so hate apologizing. "... I'm sorry."

Draco looked surprised, but he hid it fairly well, nodding his head, a jerky movement. "...me too."

Harry pulled his hands out of his pockets, tugging each sleeve down more, a bit nervously. Stepping forward, shaky fingers reached out and grasped the end of Draco's scarf. He tugged gently, and Draco complied, stepping forwards. Harry wound the scarf around his hands, wrapping them tightly until Draco was so close that their noses nearly bumped. "...I love you," he whispered, eyes too shiny and tears threatening to fall.

Draco looked as though he would like a good cry as well, but he managed to smile, though somewhat tremulously, and reached out with fleece-clad fingers, gently brushing tears from Harry's lashes. "I love you, too," he replied, and, leaning forwards, kissed Harry softly. And for a few moments, it was almost perfect; perfect as it used to be, perfect as both wanted it to be, perfect as they willed it to be. But both were starting to realize that, no matter how perfect the situation, no apology could repair the cracked and fraying edges of their relationship. No matter how nicely Harry apologized, no matter how close Draco held him, no matter how sweetly they kissed, the problems would just continue piling up, the same as the snow.

...and there was nothing to do but continue shoveling.

Harry opened his eyes with some effort. He had a feeling that he should be more excited about waking up, but for some reason he couldn't figure out why. "Good morning," came a familiar voice to his right. Harry rolled over onto his back, coming face to face with Draco. Clad in his blue robe and silver satin pajamas, a cup of tea in hand and fuzzy slippers on his feet, Draco tried his best to smile but couldn't quite manage one. Instead, he gave a tiny jerk of the head in the general direction of the living room. "Come on," he said gently. "Present time."

Harry grumbled, but slid out of bed, shivering as his feet hit the cold wooden floor. He quickly slid on his own slippers and, grabbing his robe, followed Draco into the living room. The tree was already lit up...a smaller tree than usual; neither had really been in the Christmas spirit that year. Harry plopped down Indian-style on the floor, accepting the steaming teacup that Draco proffered with a mumbled "thanks."

The pile of gifts was smaller than usual as well. There were dozens of presents from friends, but only one apiece from each other. Harry accepted the gift Draco held out, impeccably wrapped and with a perfectly tied bow on the top. "That one's from me," Draco said, busying himself with tossing the discarded paper into a large trash bag.

Harry flipped open the card on top and found it completely blank, nothing written in it. "You didn't sign it," he said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

It was a long time before Draco said anything (partially out of his own surprise and a bit of scrambling for an answer), and Harry simply sat there staring at the blank card, unable and unwilling to move until Draco had given him some sort of explanation. "...yes," Draco began at last. "...well. I...didn't know what to say. And then I guess I just sort of...forgot about it." He fell silent, waiting, but Harry still didn't move. "Er..." Draco picked up his one remaining present, the one he knew must be from Harry. "I'll just open this one, then, shall I?" Harry said nothing, merely continued staring at Draco. Tugging the gift into his lap, Draco opened the card, and found it blank as well. He looked up at Harry, surprise written on his face. Harry gave the smallest lift of his shoulders, not even enough for it to be considered a shrug.

"...I wish I had an explanation," he said softly, hoarsely, "but I don't."

Draco stared at him, feeling a heat behind his eyes. "...I...I see," he said carefully, quietly. He felt as if he didn't get out of there, he would be ill. Rising to his feet, he cradled the package carefully in his arms. "I...I have to..." Unable to come up with an excuse, he fled the room, walking swiftly into the bedroom and straight into the loo, closing the door behind him and swiftly locking it. The gift slipped through his fingers, tumbling into the sink. Draco stared at his reflection in the mirror, shaking and sweating, eyes filling up with water which he refused to accept as tears. "Get a grip on yourself," he ordered, voice no more than a whisper. "Get a grip on yourself get a grip on yourself get a grip on yourself." The words became a mantra; his hands tangled in his hair and pulled harshly. Drawing back, he looked at his reflection and hated what he saw, absolutely _hated_ it. Making an unintelligible noise of frustration and anger, he slammed both hands into the mirror and it smashed, glass flying to the floor and shards imbedding themselves in his hands. Draco stood there, half bent over, bleeding hands pressed against the shattered mirror as he sobbed brokenly, openly.

In the living room, Harry clutched his own unopened present to his chest, folded around it as he knelt in the empty room, unable to cry yet unable to move, staring out the window at the falling snow.

At tea time neither spoke, passing the teapot and the biscuits back and forth without making a sound, though a million questions raced through their minds. Finally, Draco spoke up. "...thank you," he said softly. "...for the present."

"Oh...yes." Harry shook off the surprised immobility that had come over him at Draco's words. "You too...thank you."

"...you're welcome."

And that was all. Tea was poured, biscuits were passed, but no words spoken. And in two separate rooms were two presents, each hidden carefully (one under layers of sweaters, the other at the back of a bookcase)...

...both of them unopened.

Harry left in January.

He loved Draco, loved him more than he could express. The relationship was simply too hard, too much work. Too much pain. And Ginny still loved him. Ginny was simple. She always had been. It was far too easy to pick up where they had left off at school.

The expression on Draco's face when Harry told him had almost crumpled all of his resolve. His pale skin went ashen, and pain filled his eyes. He sank into a chair as if his legs would no longer support him. But he said nothing. He didn't even nod. Eventually Harry realized he wasn't going to get a response, and he simply left.

It wasn't too much later in the day before he got a phone call from Hermione. She had known about Harry leaving (and completely disapproved—he had gotten a severe scolding). "What is it, Hermione." He couldn't keep the terseness from his voice, for he knew she was still angry.

"Draco's in the hospital."

Immediately an icy chill swept Harry's entire body. "….what." His voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I went to check on him and he was in the bathroom. He had slit his wrists."

Terrified panic gripped Harry's heart in a vice. "Is he okay?"

"Do you bloody _think_ he's okay?!" Hermione snapped at him. "He's alive, if that's what you mean. But he's far from alright. He's been admitted to the psych ward."

Harry couldn't find words, emotions racing. "Should….should I go see him?"

The answer was immediate. "No. I don't think you should go see him again. At least not for a while. Not unless you're ready to repair your relationship, and personally I don't think you're mature enough at this point to do so. I wouldn't trust you not to hurt him, and he's far too fragile for that."

A tiny part of Harry wanted to snap at her, to say that he would never hurt Draco, but it was far too clear how very badly he had done just that. He had grown tired of trying to make things work and chosen the easy way out, and left Draco behind to pick up the pieces. He swallowed with some difficulty and nodded, even though Hermione couldn't see. "I understand. Would you…..would you mind keeping me updated?"

"I will. I'm going to stay close to him. If I think he's ready to see you, or if he asks for you, I'll let you know."

"Thanks." The phone clicked as she hung up. Harry hung up his own phone, his hand shaking.

He almost lost Draco. Somehow, even though he had ended the relationship, in some corner of his mind, he had always imagined having Draco in his life. And to almost lose him….

He buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

Four months had passed since Harry had split with Draco. Four months since he had almost lost the man forever, and there wasn't a day when the event didn't cross his mind. Every night, he dreamt of Draco's beautiful face, of the pain in his eyes when Harry had said he was leaving. Some nights the dreams were worse, his brain conjuring up images of Draco passed out with slit wrists, and he would wake up screaming. Ginny tried to comfort him but it never worked. She had been pressing him for marriage all these months but he shied away every time. It wasn't right, and he knew it. He just didn't love her. No matter how hard he tried to fall out of love with Draco, he knew that the blond was the only person he would ever love.

Harry slid out of the car, door shutting heavily behind him. Making his way up to the house, he idly jangled the keys in his pocket with one hand. Then he caught sight of something he wasn't expecting and he froze right where he stood.

On the front porch of the house, baskets upon baskets of flowers. Not just any flowers...flowers Harry recognized. Flowers he knew for a fact had been planted by him and Draco. It was too late in the year for them, so it seemed doubly impossible. Slowly, Harry took several shaky steps forward, crouching down in front of the brilliant blossoms. He saw then that the flowers had not been picked. Each basket was filled with flowers still in their pots, flowers which had obviously been very carefully dug up and replaced in planters with a sense of loving care which made Harry's heart ache. Then he noticed a note tucked into one of the baskets. With shaking fingers, he plucked the paper out from the center of the bright buds, pulling it close enough to read it.

 _Harry..._

 _I hope things are going okay for you..._

 _Sorry about the garden. I know you wouldn't like to see it torn up, but I thought you might need it more..._

 _...wish that things could have turned out differently..._

 _You know I'll never stop loving you._

The sentences without endings, as though Harry was supposed to know what Draco meant...or perhaps finish them himself.

And then he noticed the period on the end of the last sentence, somehow silently stating that no matter how much he wanted to, he could never contest that proclamation of love. Harry's shaking fingers tightened about the letter, crumpling it as tears filled his eyes.

"You alright, Harry?" Ginny asked, her voice a distant echo over his shoulder.

"...fine," he answered hollowly. "I'm fine..."

And outside, it began to snow.

 **~tbc~**


	2. Chapter 2

Harry set the basket of flowers on the kitchen counter, adjusting them so they would get plenty of sunlight. It was too cold out to plant them. Then again, he didn't really _want_ to plant them. These were from his life with Draco, and they didn't belong here with Ginny. At that moment, it hit him harder than ever before: neither did he.

He reached into his pocket, fingers fumbling with his phone. Hermione answered on the second ring. "Hello?" She didn't sound surprised to hear from him.

"How is he?"

"He gave you the flowers, didn't he." But it wasn't really a question.

"You knew?"

"Of course I do. I see him every few days."

"How is he?" Harry felt Ginny's hands on his shoulders, softly rubbing in a way that was probably supposed to be soothing. All it did was remind him yet again of his betrayal. He gently shrugged her off and stepped away. He would explain later. He would have to, for if this had shown him anything, it was that the two of them had to talk.

"….okay. Much better than he was. He's still seeing a therapist, and it's done worlds of good." Hermione hesitated. "…..he's still not over you."

"I know." Harry's voice was soft. "He wrote a card. Said that he'll always love me."

"Did he." Hermione's voice had grown slightly cold. "And how did that make you feel?"

"How do you THINK it made me feel?" Harry snapped, he couldn't help it.

" _I_ don't know! _You're_ the one who left!"

"And it was the worst mistake I've ever made in my entire life." Harry realized he was being rather loud. He hadn't said anything yet that was too obvious, but he should probably get away before he let something spill that would truly hurt Ginny. He stepped into his office, closing the door behind him. "I love him, Hermione."

"You have a very funny way of showing it."

"Well, what do you _want_ me to do?" His voice rose again in his desperation. "I fucked up. I know that. But _you're_ the one who told me to stay away. I wanted to go back right away. All these months, I've wanted to go back."

"He wasn't ready." Harry's heart was breaking all over again, but Hermione wasn't finished yet. "But I think he might be ready now."

Harry's heart leapt. "Really?"

Hermione wasn't finished. "But I swear to God, if you hurt him again, Potter, I will kill you myself."

Harry was too happy to be amused, as he usually would, at how close Hermione and Draco had grown over the years, at the fact that his best friend was now defending his former boyfriend rather than him. "Never. I promise."

"Good." There was a moment's silence, then: "…tread carefully, Harry. He's a lot better, but he's still fragile."

"I will."

She didn't say goodbye, simply hung up, leaving Harry sitting there with a goofy smile on his face. Draco was willing to talk to him. After four months, four long, torturous months, he could see Draco again. The thought sent warm, though somewhat anxious, butterflies fluttering through him.

Oh, shit. Ginny. Now he had so break things off with Ginny. It wasn't the action itself that had him upset, for it had never been a real relationship (at least for him). No, the problem was that he truly did care about her, even if it wasn't the kind of love one felt for a romantic partner. She was more of a friend, or even a little sister (which would explain why their sex life had been practically non-existent since their first month together). The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

Harry slowly opened the door to his study and returned to the living room. The girl was sitting on the couch with her feet tucked beneath her and a book in her lap, but it was incredibly clear that she wasn't actually reading. "….Ginny?"

"Mm?" But she didn't look up, continuing to stare at the pages before her.

"We need to talk."

At that, Ginny closed her book with a small nod. "I figured as much." She gestured to a chair, indicating that he should sit. He did so, trying desperately to find the proper words. Surprisingly, Ginny was the one to speak first. "You're leaving."

Harry stared at her, shocked. "I…..yes. How did you—"

"It's Draco, isn't it."

For a moment, Harry couldn't speak. He settled for a small nod. "Yes." His voice was hoarse. He swallowed with some difficulty, clearing his throat. "How did you know?"

Ginny smiled and, surprisingly, there was only the smallest hint of sadness in it. "You're not very subtle, Harry, no matter how hard you try to be. You always look sad, and you talk in your sleep."

"What does that have to do with any—" but he broke off, and flushed. "….oh."

"Yeah." Now Ginny's face looked slightly pained. "All those nightmares these past months….you would wake up crying his name."

Harry's heart sank, an overwhelming sense of guilt coming over him. "Ginny, I'm so sorry." But she merely shook her head.

"Don't be. I knew when we started this that your heart wasn't truly in it. I shouldn't have gone along with it, but I've had the biggest crush on you since school." She smiled wryly. "I should have known that a schoolgirl crush and forced feelings weren't enough to make things work."

The words had done nothing to alleviate Harry's feelings of guilt. "I'm so very sorry."

The girl was smiling still and shaking her head again. "Don't be. We both deserve better."

"How can you say I deserve better when I've put you through this for four months?"

"Harry…." Ginny sighed, setting her book aside. "True love is incredibly hard to find. You had that with Draco, and from the tiny snatches of the conversation I just heard, it sounds as if you still have a chance for it."

"You heard that?" Harry's voice was meek, cheeks burning. He hadn't wanted Ginny to hear, hadn't wanted her to feel even worse. But she didn't look as though the words had hurt her, for she was smiling at him.

"Yes," she answered. "And if you have a chance to repair things between you two, you need to take it."

Harry felt an overwhelming sense of love for the girl just then. "Ginny….you're the best."

Her smile grew to a cheeky grin. "I know."

He couldn't help but laugh. "You really do deserve better than me."

"Damn straight."

Another laugh, and he shook his head. Still…. "I don't know what to do." Ginny cocked her head, not understanding his words. "How to win him back," Harry explained. Her mouth formed a tiny 'o' of understanding. "I fucked up, Ginny. I fucked up bad."

There was no way for her to truly understand, for Harry had never told her the circumstances under which he had left (one doesn't share breakup details with the new lover, especially when they were so tumultuous). Still, she truly did care for him. Despite all of it, she wanted to help. "We'll figure it out."

Green eyes stared at her, completely taken aback. "We?" he echoed.

She nodded. "We."

"After everything I've done, you want to help me?"

"Of course I do. You're still my friend."

Harry couldn't believe how good she was, wanting to help after all that had happened. Still….he shook his head. "Thanks, Ginny, but this is something I need to do on my own."

She looked as if she understood, nodding her head. "I get it."

Harry stepped in and wrapped his arms around the redhead in a tight hug. "Thanks, Ginny," he said softly. "You're the best."

He could hear the smile in her voice as yet again she answered "I know."

Harry had moved out immediately. Until Ginny was able to find someone to sublet their apartment, which was much too large for just her on her own, Harry was helping to pay the rent; it was far too expensive for her to pay alone. He just couldn't stay in the house with her. There was no way to win back Draco when he was living with his ex-girlfriend, the girlfriend he had left Draco for in the first place.

Now he just had to figure out how he was going to win Draco back….

In the end, the solution seemed so simple. He was going to show Draco his love in a series of simple little actions. Actions that pointed out and proclaimed all of the things he loved about Draco.

To begin with, he baked Draco's favorite shortbread cookies from scratch. It would have been far easier to just buy them, but that wasn't what this was about. If he really, truly wanted to show his love, he had to do this by hand.

When he was done, he packaged them up in plastic to keep them nice and fresh, then went to the store and purchased a basket and a pretty plaid cloth, wrapping them all together.

He was extremely nervous as he drove to their old house. What if Draco was home? What would he do? What would he SAY? Rather than risk it, he parked his car down the road and walked the rest of the way to the house. He noted the way the paint was peeling on the front door, the fact that one of the shutters had fallen down and not been replaced. Clearly Draco hadn't felt up to the task.

Harry snuck up to the porch and carefully placed the basket there. He could hear movement inside. Clearly Draco _was_ in fact home, and Harry's footsteps had been heard on the porch. Panicked, he ran as fast as he could until he was hidden by the trees.

Draco appeared at the door and Harry's breath caught. It had been over four months since Harry had seen the other man, and he looked just as lovely as he had then. Maybe a little more tired, but still beautiful. Those grey eyes widened in surprise as he saw the basket on the porch. Picking it up, he looked around to see who might have dropped it off.

"Hello?" he called. But there was no answer. Draco plucked the tiny card from the basket, reading it.

 _Draco,_

 _I made these for you from scratch. I know they're your favorite. Please enjoy them with tea. They're the first of many packages I'll be delivering to you._

Harry knew when Draco reached the final line, for those beautiful eyes widened in shock.

 _These four months apart from you has been hell. I'll never forgive myself for what I did to you, and I don't expect you to forgive me, either, but I plan to show you, in as many different ways as I can think of, that I've never stopped loving you, and I never will. Never._

 _I love you, Draco._

 _Harry_

Harry waited with baited breath to see what Draco would do, if he would crumple the card or keep it. His eyes widened in shock as instead, Draco's eyes filled with tears. He brushed them away and then, unbelievably, he raised the note to his lips and kissed it. Finally, he returned inside.

Harry stared at the house, unable to believe what he had just seen. His words had brought tears to Draco's eyes. Not only that, Draco had kissed the paper. He had seen Harry's words of love and had responded with a kiss.

Maybe there was hope after all.

Harry continued to drop small packages off at Draco's. He went there most every other day, but always at a different time, so as not to get caught. He still hadn't the faintest idea of what he would say to Draco when he saw him face to face. He just wasn't ready for that.

It was mid-November now, and getting colder by the day. Harry shivered in his pea coat as he approached Draco's house. He still always parked down the road and walked the rest of the way. The system had been working well (he hadn't been caught yet) so he saw no reason to change it. Still, once the snow began falling, he might have to think about doing just that.

He held his latest gift clutched tight in his arms. It was a photo album full of pictures of Draco. He knew it might seem silly to give someone an album of pictures solely of themselves, but he was giving gifts that showed things he loved about Draco, and this showed exactly that. There were pictures of the blonde in his pajamas, long hair a messy golden halo about his head and a grumpy expression on his face (he was always grumpy before he'd had a cup of tea), photos of him reading with a squint on his face (he refused to get reading glasses), photos of him outside in the winter, all bundled up as he built a snowman. But Harry's favorite by far was from their first summer together at their house. It was shortly after planting their garden. Harry had braided a crown out of the flowers and placed it on Draco's head. Draco had rolled his eyes and pretended to hate it, but Harry knew he loved it. Shortly after, he had fallen asleep in the grass, and Harry had scattered flower petals around him. He looked positively lovely, like an angel or some beautiful creature out of mythology.

The basket was outside the door. After a while, Draco had simply begun leaving it there rather than make Harry bring a new one every day. He left a note, his explanation being that he didn't want Harry spending so much on baskets, but Harry also suspected that the house was being overrun by the things.

Leaning over, Harry began to fold the album into the checkered cloth, but then the door opened. He froze, heart beginning to pound.

"Hello, Harry."

Slowly Harry straightened up, album in hand. "Hello, Draco." His voice was barely audible, no more than air. For Draco, whom he hadn't seen in five months now, was less than a foot away from him, and fuck all if he wasn't the most beautiful thing Harry had seen in his entire life.

"….would you like to come in?"

Harry wanted to accept that offer; _God_ did he want to. But he couldn't. He shook his head. "I'm sorry….not yet. I still have too much to do." _Too much to atone for._ The unspoken words hung heavy between them.

Draco simply regarded Harry silently for a long moment, eyes taking in the gift in his hand. "You really don't have to do this." It was clear he meant more than just the one gift. He meant the months of gifts, months of penance. Harry didn't know how he could think such a thing, not after all Harry had done to him.

"Yes," Harry said, eyes pulling away from the scars on Draco's wrists to look him in the eye. "I do."

It had been almost six months now. Two months of gift giving. Draco had begun leaving little things in the basket for Harry to find, little replies to the gifts he had received. The first had been after Harry had given him the photo album. It had been a return album, this one filled of pictures of Harry: a photo of Harry at a carnival, sticky with cotton candy….one from vacation at Cape Cod when he had tried to be kind and feed leftover French fries to a nearby pigeon and immediately gotten swarmed by birds….one at the beach where he had fallen asleep with his hands on his chest and gotten sunburned so that it looked like he was wearing a bikini top. Draco had teased him mercilessly for that one.

Harry had been frozen to the spot for several moments, clutching the album to his chest. He thought he saw a curtain twitch as Draco peeked out the window at him, but he couldn't be sure; his eyes were blurry with tears.

It was now the first week of December. He approached the house, basket in hand. He had to pack one in advance this time, for he had a lot to give. He had baked Christmas cookies, and bought some tea. It was Draco's favorite tea and he didn't get it often, for it was from England and the company didn't ship to the US. Harry had found a contact in England and arranged for them to mail it to him.

He was about to place the basket on the porch when he noticed the familiar note in their usual basket. Smiling, he opened it.

 _You are the world's biggest dork._

He had to laugh. His last gift had been a photobook, a comic of sorts. He had used stuffed animals that Draco had either given him or won him at carnivals over their years together. He had written a story and used the stuffed animals to act it out, then written the captions on the photos.

Then he noticed that there was something else in the basket. He pulled it out and, to his great delight, discovered that Draco had done exactly the same with stuffed animals Harry had given him over the years. This time he burst into loud laughter, eyes filling with tears of mirth.

Clearly Draco heard him, for the door opened, and there the man stood, a small smile on his face. "I take it you like it."

Harry wiped a tear from his eye and somehow managed a nod. "I _love_ it."

"Good." Draco hesitated for only a moment. "Do you want to come in?" He was obviously afraid of being turned down again, but he didn't have to be; Harry nodded.

"Yes."

The smile that broke over Draco's face was beautiful to behold. He held the door open for Harry. This meant that the brunette had to step past Draco, and their bodies brushed. Harry had to bite back a noise of some sort. It had been too long. He _missed_ Draco. Missed his smile, his laugh, his touch. Hell, he would gladly have stood there and let Draco rant and rave and scream at him for hours….just so long as he got to be near the man.

Draco shut the door behind them, the soft 'snick' sound seeming so final to Harry's ears. The blonde moved past Harry, padding softly on socked feet (he was wearing the rainbow fuzzy socks that Harry had bought him!), moving into the kitchen. "Tea?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Oh….yes, please." Harry was surprised and pleased by the socks. He probably would have agreed to anything at that moment.

"Have a seat."

Harry obeyed, heading into the living room. It was almost exactly as it had been when he left, with the exception of the few items he had taken with him and the framed photos of the two of them together. No, wait….there. A selfie he and Draco had taken at the beach one day was sitting on the end table beside the chair that Draco usually sat in. It filled him with warmth.

"Here."

Harry jumped at the sound of Draco's voice. "Oh. Thanks." He took the steaming cup of tea that the blonde offered and sank into the chair opposite Draco's. He didn't miss the way that Draco's eyes went to the photo that Harry had been looking at, or the responding flush that rose to those pale cheeks.

There was a long, awkward moment of silence, both men sipping their tea, neither sure how to initiate conversation. At last, Draco spoke up. "So….how've you—"

"I'm sorry," Harry blurted out. "I'm so sorry."

Draco's eyes widened ever so slightly, obviously taken aback at the abrupt apology. But Harry wasn't finished.

"I didn't know what to do. We were stuck. We were stuck, and I took the easy way out. I was a coward. And I meant what I said in my note. I never stopped loving you. Never. I _still_ love you. More than I can ever say. And I don't expect you to forgive me but if you did—"

"Harry," Draco interrupted. "I forgive you."

Harry stopped dead. "You….you do?"

Draco nodded. "I forgave you long ago. And then your gifts…. _God_ , Harry."

"I wanted to show you how much you mean to me." Harry's voice was soft. He rose to his feet, crossing to Draco and kneeling before him. "Because you do. You're everything to me. When Hermione told me what happened….I thought I was going to die. I didn't realize until that moment, but despite leaving, I had always pictured having you in my life. To live without you….I couldn't have done it."

Draco's eyes were suspiciously glassy. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too." Harry brushed a lock of hair out of Draco's eyes. "You….you're it for me."

Draco couldn't hold back the tears any longer; he cupped Harry's face in his hands and kissed him. Harry slipped a hand into those soft golden locks as he pressed closer, kissing Draco softly, gently. When they separated, Draco leaned their foreheads together. "Stay with me tonight?"

Warmth flooded Harry. "Of course."

That night, for the first time in months, they lay wrapped in each other's arms. It wasn't about sex, and it didn't need to be. That would come in time. Right now, all they needed was each other. They snuggled together and exchanged soft kisses long into the night, until they feel asleep tangled so close together that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

"I think that's the last of it."

Draco heaved a sigh, flopping back onto the couch. "Tell me how it takes us four months to move and unpack all our things."

Grinning, Harry plopped down beside him. "Cuz we're lazy?"

Draco laughed. "Got me there."

The two men had moved back in together a few weeks after that night of confessions. This time, their Christmas presents had cards, and the words were ones of deepest love. Still, it didn't feel right to live in a house with so many bad memories. They quickly found a new house, determined to make a brand new beginning. But they were incredibly slow to unpack. It probably had less to do with being lazy, as Harry had said, and much more to do with wanting to spend every waking moment together, relearning every little detail.

"At least the snow is beginning to melt."

"Hey, I like snow," Harry protested.

"Yeah, that's cuz you never shovel." Draco gave Harry a little shove, but it was good-natured.

"I do so!"

"Sometimes."

Harry pouted. "So mean."

Draco grinned. "And you love me."

The brunette smiled. "I do." He leaned in for a long kiss that had him maneuvering Draco back against the arm of the couch. After a moment, Draco realized what Harry was doing and broke away, protesting.

"Ah ah ah, no no, Harry," he chastised. "We're supposed to be at Ron's and Hermione's in half an hour." Harry groaned in frustration.

"Do we really have to?"

Draco laughed. "Hey, _you're_ the one who made the plans."

"Well, yeah. That's cuz if I don't let you out of the house sometimes, everyone's going to assume I finally got so irritating that you murdered me and buried me beneath the floorboards."

Draco let out a bark of laughter. "Hey! Why am _I_ the murderer?"

"Because it's a lot more likely I could drive someone to murder than you."

"Hmm…" Draco mulled the thought over, then grinned. "Good point." He leaned in and kissed Harry. "Now get up and get dressed."

"Fine," Harry grumbled. "But you'd better cuddle me later."

The blonde chuckled. "I will. Promise."

It didn't take long for them to get dressed and ready. Harry collected the pie he had promised to bring for dessert and slipped into his jacket. It was getting much warmer out, so he didn't need a heavy one. Pretty soon they would see the green grass, and things would begin to bloom. He was looking forward to it. He had brought all the flower bulbs back from his apartment and they had planted them before the ground had completely frozen. He just prayed that they had survived the winter. If not, they could always plant new ones, but it would be nice to have the flowers from their original garden.

Draco finished tugging on his boots. It may be much warmer out, but there was still snow on the ground. He looked expectantly at Harry. "Ready, love?"

As always, the endearment made Harry's heart flutter; he stole a kiss. "Ready."

The kiss brought a smile to Draco's face. "What was that for?"

Harry shrugged. "Nothing. Just…." His cheeks flushed ever so slightly. He never liked talking about what had happened between them; it always made him feel guilty. He still couldn't believe that Draco had given him a second chance. He took Draco's hand in his, thumb gently brushing over the pale scar running down his wrist, not missing the way the blonde's breath caught at the action. Raising the wrist, he kissed the scar, the tiny tattoo of a semicolon just beside the scar. He had a matching one on his own wrist. They had gotten them together, a symbol that rather than writing an ending, you put a semicolon and keep writing. Not only did Draco endure and keep writing his own life story, they had kept going and continued to write the story of their relationship together. But Draco was still looking at him, still waiting for him to finish his sentence. "Thank you for taking me back."

He knew exactly what expression he would see on Draco's face even before he looked. It was always the same, a strange combination of exasperation and love, asking 'what is wrong with you, you beautiful idiot?'

"You don't have to thank me." Harry opened his mouth to object, to say that yes, he certainly did, but Draco wasn't finished. He smiled, continuing, "just never leave me again." And though the words could have been serious or admonishing, it was clear that he was teasing, for Harry had shown him in every way that he would never, ever leave.

Harry shook his head. "Never. Not even if you want me to." He smiled. "You're stuck with me now, babe."

Draco laughed. "Oh I am, am I?"

"Damn straight."

Together, they headed outside. Harry grimaced at the slushy snow. It was beginning to melt in the warming air. He hated slush.

"Harry! Harry, look!" Draco's excited tone caught Harry's attention immediately and he looked for the source of that elation. His attention followed Draco's pointing finger to the garden where they had planted the flowers that winter. Immediately his breath caught.

There, the first tiny heads of flowers were poking out amidst the snow. The flowers had weathered their first weather together, survived despite being transplanted. Harry couldn't help but see the parallel between the plants and him and Draco. After all their struggles, they had come together and started over, and they had managed to make everything work. They had pushed through the barriers, all the difficulties, and come out all the stronger for it.

He looked to Draco, at that huge smile gracing that lovely face, and was overcome with all the love he felt for this man. Gently, he stroked Draco's cheek. Draco caught Harry's hand in his and kissed his fingertips. "I love you," Harry whispered. "So much."

Draco's face softened. "I love you, too."

His hand cupping Draco's face, Harry leaned in and kissed the man, an arm slipping about his waist to pull their bodies flush together, and they kissed as outside the last traces of winter melted away.

 **~fin~**


End file.
